


the way the road dogs do it

by mormon-hair (frankie_31)



Series: out on that open road [1]
Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: Driving, Emotionally Repressed, Gen, Post-Season/Series 02, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-18 10:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21509233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankie_31/pseuds/mormon-hair
Summary: For Annie. Bill and Holden drive and talk.
Series: out on that open road [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550347
Comments: 13
Kudos: 37





	the way the road dogs do it

The road stretches ahead, empty and unlit. The moon is a fat, yellow slice hanging in a clear starlit night. 

The leather of the steering wheel creaks under Bill’s hands. He’s gripped it too tightly, lost among the dust bunnies drifting through his empty house. The darker rectangles on his walls where photos of his family has been spared the bleaching of the sun. The carpet under the sofa, hidden from dirt and feet, cleaner than it should be. 

They’re carving their way down the  southeastern pane of America. Atlanta weighs heavy in Bill’s mind as they pass the turn-off for the I-85 to Atlanta, Georgia. Bill exhales, wishes he hadn’t smoked through the last of his pack. He wishes a lot of things. 

“Bill?” Holden asks, attentive to a fault. 

“Yes?” Bill asks, shooting for normal.

Holden, face worried, turns away from the window to look at Bill. His round, pale face is the color of the sea in this lighting. 

“You  _ can  _ tell me things, Bill,” he says. He’s nearly pouting and Bill feels a thread of irritation run through him. “I’m not actually a toddler.”

His first instinct is to admonish. To bring up all the time Holden  _ was _ the toddler in their relationship. To pinprick Holden’s ego until he pipes down. But the anger coiling in Bill’s voice is not towards him. He’s just the closest person after the fall-out. 

“No,” Bill says. It’s not Holden’s fault. “You aren’t.”

“I don’t need… _ handlers _ ,” Holden continues. “Or training wheels. I’m—I’d argue that I’m essential to the team. I’m not some sidekick.”

“You think you’re Batman?” Bill asks, sardonic and teasing. 

“I’m certainly not Robin,” Holden responds, eyes flashing in the dark towards Bill. 

“I guess you wouldn’t want to don a pair of tights,” Bill says and Holden flushes. 

“They both wear tights,” Holden says, pink cheeks betraying his steady voice. 

“So they do,” Bill responds. They fall back into quiet and Bill clears his throat. “How’s the dating scene? Any other fish in the sea?”

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t really been fishing,” Holden responds. “Seems kind of...depressing. It’s so easy to be let down. I don’t even know if I was let down. The relationship stopped being worth it.”

“Worth what?” Bill asks, mind slinking over Holden’s words. 

“Worth the time. The effort. Pretending to give a shit about things I couldn’t care less about. The vulnerability. It’s a terrible feeling—Handing someone this integral part of your psyche and letting them do what they will with it.”

“What even went down with you two? You seemed hot and heavy and then—Nothing,” Bill says.

Holden rubs a hand over the back of his neck. He’s shed his suit jacket. They’re in the middle of Alabama and the heat is a humid, oppressive one. The first three buttons of his shirt are undone and sweat glosses over the crest of his collar bones. Bill turns his gaze back to the road. 

“We wanted different things,” Holden says. He fidgets, hands twisting in his lap. He darts a glance to Bill. “Different people.”

“Ah,” Bill says, in lieu of saying nothing. 

“I do miss the sex,” Holden comments, plain in the night. 

“Relationships and sex don’t go hand-in-hand,” Bill says. He clears his throat again. “I haven’t got any in nearly a year.” 

“A year?” Holden asks, turning towards him. His mouth makes a little ‘o’. “That’s...criminal.”

“Believe it or not, that’s the least of my concerns,” Bill says. “I don’t imagine I’ll be getting any for awhile.”

“Are you in the dog house?” Holden asks, words wooden in a way that shows he’s obviously mimicking someone’s vernacular. 

“You could say that,” Bill says. The road turns and the moon careens into his path. He swallows. “She—Nance left me.”

“She—Oh. I’m sorry, Bill. Really sorry,” Holden says and he squeezes his hands together. “That’s really shitty.”

“Took the boy,” Bill says and the back of his throat stings. He swallows again. 

“Bill, I had no idea. Can I do anything to help?”

“No,” Bill says. “I don’t think anyone can. We have to figure it out.” 

“Where have you been staying?” 

“In the house,” Bill says. “She went to her parents’ place.”

“I had no idea,” Holden says again. “How long ago?”

“Since--Well,” Bill turns onto the offramp that leads them into Montgomery. “When we got back from Atlanta. She was gone.”

“Christ,” Holden says. “That was weeks ago, Bill.”

Holden’s now looking at him with giant-Bambi eyes. Bill has misstepped and landed in hurting Holden’s feelings. 

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Bill says, forcing his eyes out the front window. “You’re actually the first person.”

“Oh,” Holden says, mollified. “Well, thank you for trusting me.”

“I do,” Bill says, chewing the words on their way out. 

“Do what?”

“Trust you.”

“Oh,” Holden says again. He sucks in a breath, adjusts his posture. “You trust me.”

“God help me,” Bill can’t help but say with a smile and Holden frowns at him. “I’m kidding.”

“I know,” Holden lies. He unpuffs a little, easing back in his seat. “I trust you, too.”

“Good,” Bill says. 

“Good,” Holden echoes. 

Bill pulls into their hotel parking lot. It’s after midnight. He can’t see the moon around the motel. He turns off the car. 


End file.
